


From A Different Angle

by AlbiNora



Series: Midnight Observations of Hollow Knight and Its Characters [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Canon Typical Void Shenanigans, Character Study, Dehumanization, Depression, Desperate times call for desperate measures, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Inner Dialogue, Self Destructive Behaviour, Sorry Not Sorry, mentions of child death, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbiNora/pseuds/AlbiNora
Summary: What was the Pale King like, behind the scenes? Do you wish to know?
Relationships: The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Series: Midnight Observations of Hollow Knight and Its Characters [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908793
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	From A Different Angle

How much would you give for a kingdom? 

The King gave all he had and then more, I watched it all. I was there when he was first informed of the infection, the way he processed the words and stopped and then all his usual calm faded for a second before he was on his way to see to the one the Watcher spoke of. 

I had followed, it was all I could do. Felt compelled to see what price he would pay, what price my forgotten Goddess would make him pay. Watched as several bugs were taken by the light, to die at the hands of soldiers in silence. 

For weeks he tried to find a way to solve it all, as peacefully as possible. He thought about a peace treaty, about giving the moths more space, more room to grow. He quickly realized that the Light could no longer be reasoned with. And so, he started giving up on things. 

At first, he gave up a title that only those who knew him personally called him by, he gave up being a soothsayer. He had to lie if he wanted people to remain calm, if he wanted them be happy at all. How would you tell your people that you have doomed them to a plague with no cure? You can’t, so he didn’t. 

I was behind him, as he gave up his morals, as he asked his wife for children that he would never get to have. I listened as he wept for every single one of them, as he cried while killing them, for doing something he swore never to do, never to hurt his family. For a cure he truly believed in, he shed his blood over and over until he had none left, until all he had was the void that barely moved in his veins, that refused to hollow him out. 

Did you truly think that he didn’t try to do it himself? That he didn’t want to empty all that he was so that he could atone for what he has brought? That he chose to kill innocents as the first thing? No, he went down to the abyss over and over and over again until he bled black, cried black, saw black, heard black and saw his body (once so pure and white and shining that you could not look without blinding yourself) turn black, black, black of the abyss of the void… 

He made creatures, of his power after. Ones who collapsed and then got back up again, kingsmould and wingsmould and then, on a horrid night when he almost crumbled, something else that turned sentient and violent and erratic, that wanted nothing but to protect no matter the cost (born insane from the start). I watched him lock the Collector (for our King named them regardless) away in the city of tears and listened as he told his Watcher about them, to watch them if the other could. 

Time was pressing onto our King then, so he had to toss away what remained of his morals and turned to his wife for children, born of root and born of wyrm. Do you know what it takes to watch as the void sea takes your eggs and hollow them out? To hear near silent heartbeats completely fall dead? To stand and watch as the first ones hatch and have them break and tear and shatter and melt in your arms? Of course, you don’t. 

You were not there, no one was there but me when he had to climb out of the abyss on his own, void-blood coating him head to toe, with eyes dead and carved out and empty, once again unseeing of the world that surrounded him. You didn’t see as he broke himself over and over again until he finally felt just as empty as he wanted himself to be, cold as he watched his children climb up towards him only to fall at his hands (he couldn’t bear the thought of raising one isolated, couldn’t bear to think of something as disgusting as him raising one at all). 

He threw away his last strands of empathy as he chose to seal the gates, seeing but a flash of the vessel left behind finally putting an end to it all centuries after. What would it cost to achieve that? 

The following years he left many things behind, he gave up being friendly, gave up being kind, stopped being selfless and patient. Gone were the days when he allowed himself to be proud, creative, generous, forgiving and grateful. 

That one assassin, who called themselves Xero, their soul was extinguished by their second sentence. The warrior who wanted to prove themselves? Galien was forgotten almost as soon as they introduced themselves. Ogrim? Royal and brave who wanted the best for the kingdom? Banished from the palace, waved off without a second thought for their questions (but when the kind Isma followed, I watched the king choke back a sob as he hunched over his workbench, always and always trying to find another way that could never be found). 

I was there for every moment he spent training his knight, the Hollow Knight. I was there to hear him whisper to himself in his locked workshop how proud he was and how he wanted to love them with all he had, I was there to hear the king utter a name they choose for their child before he decided that giving the child hope was worse than calling them an object. 

Do not get me wrong, I hated the king for all they have done and despised them for killing me and all of my kind. But you must also know that I came from a tribe that valued peace and devotion and sacrifice, and seeing the King break themselves apart, grinding their self to dust just so others could have a sliver of a chance for a better ending? I could never hate him for that. 

When he went to the dreamers? He barely had a thing left. Monomon asked for her part in the plan to be erased (all the science and thought behind the usage of void she experimented with gone) and for her assistant to be gone from Hallownest whole (to strip their memory completely, wiped clean for her own selfish desires) the King agreed and didn’t say what he thought of it. 

Lurien’s request was unexpected, but he understood. His watcher served him for oh so long, unwavering. When the other asked if it would be alright, for them to stop worshiping the king, to believe in a king who didn’t believe in himself was impossible for them. And the king allowed it even as one of his most loyal tore out another piece of their already collapsing soul and moved on. 

Not even I expected Herrah to ask for a child. I expected assurance for her people, or bigger territory maybe walls to be drawn between the kingdom and Deepnest. But for the queen to ask the king to throw away his loyalty to the one person that he Worshipped? Cruel, needlessly cruel. And even as the King gave in, I could feel as my own will started to crumble at it. 

I never really let it take me though. I kept watching as he went on spending countless hours boring over different solutions, even as the White Lady and Dryya left. Despite Hegemol leaving and falling somewhere. I kept on going by his side even if he couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me anymore. 

There wasn’t a thing that I could do, as he ground himself up, as he sealed the dreamers and his own child (Ah, I remember now, he named them Lavender, for purity, silence and devotion), as he ignored his one daughter so she would hate him when he finally died, so that she didn’t mourn. 

However, when he chose to tear his palace from its place and hide it among dreams? I could finally do something. I was able to grasp at the strands of magic he tried to will forward (too weak now, no one left to worship him in an empty palace and a dying kingdom), I was able to grasp and weave and tug and pull and cover with layers upon layers of seals to hide and shield it (him) away from view. 

I didn’t expect him to see me then. 

I didn’t expect him to tell me to leave, to flee. 

I didn’t expect him to be consumed by the void that rose to finally take him away. 

. 

. 

. 

I found the young vessel the king left behind all those years ago, thrown into an endless dream. 

“What a terrible fate they’ve visited upon you.” 

And if I learned anything while following the king? 

“To cast you into this space between body and soul.” 

If I could help this vessel on their way, if I could give them the tool to help them towards a harder but hopefully better end? 

“Will you accept their judgement and fade slowly away?” 

Well, I don’t have a use for the dream nail any longer. 

“Or will you take the weapon before you, and cut your way out of this sad, forgotten dream?” 

I will become your sword, even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.

**Author's Note:**

> well this is also very self indulgent, I might do one that tears into white lady and/or Herrah next, I'm just about done with the love those two are both getting  
> hope you all liked it!


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